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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467533">Sacrificial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rambledore/pseuds/rambledore'>rambledore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beauty and the Beast (TV 2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:00:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rambledore/pseuds/rambledore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrified scream woke Vincent up from his dream, and it took him too long to realize it was his own. He sat up, gasping, his skin glistening with sweat.</p><p>“In and out, in and out,” he muttered to himself in-between desperate gasps for breath. Once he finally got his breathing under control – be it a minute or an hour later, he didn’t know – he groaned and buried his face in his hands.</p><p>Or: Vincent Keller, doctor-turned-ex-soldier struggling with PTSD meets Catherine Chandler, a homicide detective with her own share of baggage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Catherine Chandler &amp; Tess Vargas, Catherine Chandler/Vincent Keller, J.T. Forbes &amp; Vincent Keller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Aye, so BATB used to be one of my favorite shows. After realizing that, oh shit, right, the show had 4 seasons and I only saw three, I decided to do a complete rewatch in, like, 4 days.</p><p>Realizing that there's not many fics in the fandom, I took it upon myself to write something. This is a modern AU - no powers, no beasts, no super soldiers. Just two souls meeting each other at last. I had to take some creative liberties here.</p><p>This is, obviously, gonna be a multichapter story. My guess is around 20-40k?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A sharp whip. A pained grunt. Again, and again, and again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I ask you this one last time. Where are your soldiers? Where are your base?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A spit. “Captain Vincent Ryan Keller, Serial Numb—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A punch to the face. Another one. Another.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“WHAT IS LOCATION OF YOUR SOLDIERS?! I CUT YOUR FACE OFF IF YOU DON’T TELL ME!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Vincent smirked weakly. “Go fuck yourself.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Taliban leader looked at him coldly and said, “Very well. You will beg for death.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Vincent screamed.</em>
</p><p>A terrified scream woke Vincent up from his dream, and it took him too long to realize it was his own. He sat up, gasping, his skin glistening with sweat.</p><p>“In and out, in and out,” he muttered to himself in-between desperate gasps for breath. Once he finally got his breathing under control – be it a minute or an hour later, he didn’t know – he groaned and buried his face in his hands.</p><p>Again. He’d had the nightmare again. Or, well, one of the variations of it. This one was the most common, or at least he thought. Sometimes, he was lucky enough not to remember after waking up.</p><p>He cast his bleary gaze on the clock, reading 5:02. It was of no use of him to try and go back to sleep; he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He just hoped he didn’t wake J.T. up.</p><p>Vincent sighed and stood up, his shoulder twitching painfully with his movement. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and proceeded to rummage through his medicine cabinet. He smiled sadly at the multitude of different pills he needed to take just so that his body could properly heal. Even after being home for nearly six months, his body often liked to remind him of what it went through in Afghanistan all those months ago.</p><p>After taking a few of the painkillers, he decided to go for a run, to at least clean his head somewhat. There was nothing better than running through Central Park at 5 in the morning in the dead of winter. That was all-too-fine for Vincent, who preferred being alone most of the time, his best-friend-slash-roommate being the only outlier.</p><p>After quickly chicken-scratching a note to J.T. (he learned that in med school), he left the apartment and just ran, and ran, and ran. He had no idea how long he had been running at this point, but he knew that he felt like shit, but in a good way. Everything burned and ached, especially his legs and lungs. Normally, it would remind him all-too much of the Afghani heat, but in this case, it did the exact opposite.</p><p>This was home, plain and simple. The cold, sharp air entering his lungs, the cold biting at his exposed forearms, the never-ending grass and trees and desire paths… it all screamed home. And Vincent reveled in it.</p><p>This was his preferred form of therapy, no matter what the shrink said. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh-but-not-really-fresh scent of New York City and ran faster, and faster, spending the last of his energy on an all-out sprint. Just as he was about to slow down, he felt something – or rather some<em>one</em> – slam into him, nearly knocking the wind out of him.</p><p>The force of the hit nearly sent him flat on his ass, but he managed to regain his balance at the last second. It seemed, however, that the immovable object his unstoppable force had met, was not so lucky. The woman, he now noticed, was grunting in pain on the ground, clutching at her arm. Vincent immediately took out his headphones and slowly approached the woman.</p><p>“Oh my God, I am so, so sorry, ma’am! Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling down and trying to assess her injuries. She only clutched at her arm, but her shoulder did not seem dislocated. From just the look of it, it was just a bad hit. However, he wanted to make sure.</p><p>“No, not really,” the woman grunted and took a couple of deep breaths. After a few seconds, she finally looked up at him, and Vincent froze in his tracks. The woman seemed familiar, definitely, but what made him freeze on the spot was her undeniable beauty. Before he allowed himself to check her out, he snapped himself out of it and focused on her eyes.</p><p>“Mind if I take a look? That was a really nasty fall you took there… mainly because of me.”</p><p>She threw him a slightly distrustful look, and Vincent couldn’t really blame her. Instead, he smiled gently and said, “I am—Uh, I was a doctor. I promise I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, I just wanna make sure you’re alright, if that’s okay with you.”</p><p>The woman’s gaze was still rather suspicious, but she stopped clutching at her arm and nodded slightly. Vincent took that as a good sign and moved closer to her, gently grasping her arm and looking at it carefully. He carefully and methodically moved his fingers across the area, which was already starting to bruise. After a few minutes of silence, he let go and smiled at her.</p><p>“I don’t think anything’s broken, but you should go get it checked out just to be sure. I am so, so sorry.”</p><p>“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said, finally giving him a sincere, albeit small, smile. “It was my fault just as much as yours.”</p><p>Vincent didn’t really look, nor was, convinced, but he let it slide. “If you’re sure.”</p><p>The silence quickly went from comfortable to awkward, and after a few minutes, Vincent cleared his throat and offered her a hand. She took it and allowed herself to be hauled up.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”</p><p>The girl seemed to be contemplating something, and apparently, she reached a decision. It was as if a lightbulb lit up in her head, making her eyes sparkle. She smiled and asked, “So, what made you decide to go for a run at 5:30 in the morning in the middle of January?”</p><p>Vincent smiled, and for once, it came easier to him. “I could ask you the same question.”</p><p>The woman shrugged, “I asked you first.”</p><p>Vincent chuckled and extended his hand, “Vincent Keller.”</p><p>The woman shook it and responded, “Catherine Chandler. So, Vincent, you make it a habit of running into women at dawn?”</p><p>“Not dawn yet, but to answer your question.. no, not really. Just needed to vent,” he said, mentally adding, <em>because I get nightmares every goddamn night and I haven’t had a full night of sleep in years. And because I have another therapy session today, which makes me think of everything but also makes me want to drown myself in a river, just a little bit.</em></p><p>The woma—Catherine nodded. “I know the feeling. Pretty much same, actually.”</p><p>Vincent nodded, and before he could put his foot in his mouth, he decided to end the conversation before it even began. “Yeah. I’m really sorry to cut this short, but I should really get going. And you should really get that arm checked out.”</p><p>Catherine rolled her eyes but nodded. “Will do, Doc.”</p><p>Not dignifying that with a response, Vincent smirked and took off, disappearing into the still-darkness of early morning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Cat couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the man that ran into her this morning. Quite literally. There was just something about him, something familiar, as if she’d met him before. But that couldn’t be, she would definitely remember a face like that, especially one with a barely-noticeable-but-there scar on his cheek. An untrained eye would not have been able to notice it, but Catherine’s job depended on her being observant.</p><p>Still, though, after getting her arm checked out and Evan actually pronouncing it just badly bruised, she continued on with her day. And yet, she caught herself thinking of the running stranger – <em>Vincent </em>– every couple of hours, if not minutes. Still, she had a therapy session to go to, and honestly, if it weren’t for Tess, Evan, and her own goddamn Captain ganging up on her and forcing her into it, she would not have consented to give it a go.</p><p>She was fit for active duty, she had been cleared for it for months, and she was fine. Honestly, she was fine. She was a trained police officer, an officer of the law. She had known the risks, and she had also known that one day, sooner or later, she would have to fire her gun. She just hadn’t thought it would have been so soon, barely two years into her being an actual detective. And now, nearly 4 months later, she was still ‘forced’ by her friends to attend the therapy sessions, even though she was mostly alright with her decision.</p><p>It hadn’t been her fault, she knew that. The kid had a gun and was going to shoot her. She was faster. She tried to rationalize it, that the kid wasn’t really a kid, that he was nearly sixteen, that he should’ve actually used his brain before pointing a gun at a police officer.</p><p>That was what she kept telling herself, every day. And she was actually starting to believe it. Every day, she felt lighter, as if her heart finally started forgiving itself. As if she started finally forgiving herself.</p><p>Still, though, finding herself in front of the shrink, this one not NYPD-issued but rather Catherine’s-friends-issued, she felt small. She felt small compared to the burden she had to carry every day with her, a burden that she knew would never go away, not as long as she lived.</p><p>“I think we’re done for today, Catherine,” the shrink smiled gently. She had to admit that he wasn’t bad, per se, but she just didn’t like shrinks, especially after what happened all those years ago.</p><p>“Same time next week?” Catherine asked. The shrink nodded and she immediately stood up, not expecting anything different. Objectively, she knew she had to properly work through her shit, even though she kept telling herself that she was fine. Subjectively, however, it was a different matter.</p><p>Gathering her things, she said goodbye to the psychiatrist, and nearly ran into someone again.</p><p><em>Great, twice in one day! How am I so blind?</em> she thought to herself.</p><p>“I am so sorr—Catherine?” a deep gravelly voice asked, and Catherine shivered a tiny bit. She decided not to question her reaction, but rather look at the owner of the voice. Hazel eyes came face-to-face with chocolate brown, both pairs wider than a spread-out tortilla wrap.</p><p>“Vincent? What are you doing here?” she asked, her mind immediately thinking the most illogical conclusion. <em>Has he been following me?</em></p><p>“I, uh.. I have a session? With Dr. Martin? What are <em>you</em> doing here?” he asked incredulously.</p><p>Catherine blushed a tiny bit and looked down, embarrassed at her first thought. “Oh, same, actually. Been coming here for a few months, now.”</p><p>She didn’t know why she was telling him all that, this complete stranger. It was as if she instinctively knew that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t dismiss her or think her crazy or make fun of her, even. She hoped she wasn’t crazy.</p><p>Unbeknownst to her, Vincent also felt the pull. Instinctively, he wanted to get to know her more – to get to know her better. Unfortunately, he also knew that he couldn’t, and <em>shouldn’t, </em>become close to anyone. Not that he thought Catherine would want to get closer to him, definitely not.</p><p>With this jumbo jet of a mess in his mind, Vincent quickly sidestepped and muttered, “Yeah, I understand.”</p><p>Catherine got that message, and feeling a small twinge of disappointment, she still smiled at him and said, “You should probably get in there, God knows the doctor isn’t the most patient.”</p><p>“Should come with the job, shouldn’t it?” Vincent said.</p><p>Catherine’s smiled widened, “That it should.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine, Doc.”</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“If you’re fine, why didn’t you accept the job offer your old hospital has offered you? Why do you look as if you haven’t slept properly in weeks?”</p><p>Let it be known that Dr. Martin never pulled his punches. Vincent sighed, appreciating the candor but also not really.</p><p>“I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore, you know? I used to be a doctor, but after Afghanistan… how could I be responsible for saving lives when I took so many of them?”</p><p>Dr. Martin smiled at him gently. “No amount of anyone saying that you had to do it to survive will convince you of the fact, I know that. Perhaps you could see it as a way to redeem yourself.”</p><p>Vincent didn’t have anything to say to that, whether that was due to shock or actually having to think for once, he had no idea.</p><p>“I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Dr. Martin smiled. “Good, that’s all I’m asking.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So, have you actually thought about being a doctor again?”</p><p>Vincent sighed and looked at his best friend. “I don’t know, J.T. I mean, I’m thinking about it, but I don’t know if I’m ready, you know?”</p><p>“You’ve been home for like, half a year, big guy. If not now, then when?” J.T. asked rhetorically, smiling at Vincent and patting him on the shoulder. One of the things Vincent loved most about J.T. was that despite his sarcastic exterior, he cared deeply about those closest to him. His students liked him, too, which also meant that he wasn’t as much of a shitty professor as the man himself thought he was.</p><p>“I mean..”</p><p>“Plus, the pay is better than the welfare you’re on, right? You can do what? Cover your half of the rent and afford some shitty ass food?” J.T. laughed.</p><p>Vincent shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ll think about it, okay?”</p><p>And think about it, he did. He thought about it until late evening and he thought about it when he fell asleep. He didn’t think about it when he woke up, gasping for breath with tears in his eyes, his mind still reeling from the horrible nightmare it had been in.</p><p>He needed to leave, he needed to be free. Barely noticing what he was doing, he put on a hoodie and his running shoes, grabbed his phone, left the apartment, and ran in the direction of Central Park, the place he’d met Catherine the previous morning. After about twenty minutes of constant running around, he finally relented and slowed down, mostly due to his legs going numb.</p><p>Right, pajama pants.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Checking his phone for the time, he realized it was nearly 5:45. In the next half an hour or so, the park would start to get more crowded with early morning joggers and dogwalkers. Vincent sighed, disappointed.</p><p>“Hey there, stranger. Whatcha doing over here?” a very soothing, feminine voice asked. Vincent whipped his head around to see Catherine jogging towards him, not even out of breath.</p><p>“Uh, hi. Just, you know.. running,” Vincent said, scratching the back of his head. Catherine’s eyes travelled to his flexed, hoodie-covered arm, before quickly sliding back to look at him.</p><p>“In pajama pants?” she asked with a hint of humor, and Vincent didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes.</p><p>He chuckled, “Yeah. It’s this new running technique, you haven’t heard of it?”</p><p>Catherine tsked and shook her head. “Can’t say I have. Care to enlighten me?”</p><p>“You jog in your pajama pants to run away from your problems.”</p><p>At this, Catherine let out a startled snort, before laughing for a few more seconds. Vincent grinned, letting his eyes crinkle at the corners. Once Catherine stopped laughing, she looked at him and said, “You don’t seem like the kind of person who would run away from a problem.”</p><p>“No, you’re right,” Vincent said, “I’m not. How’s your arm?”</p><p>Catherine hummed, before seemingly making a snap decision. “Walk with me? There’s this café  not far from here. I’m getting cold.”</p><p>Surprised by her offer, Vincent shrugged and nodded before he could actually think it through. It was probably a bad idea, but today, he felt like living dangerously. “Sure.”</p><p>After they started walking, Vincent probed at her until she told him that her arm was fine, just a little bit sore. At his slightly guilty look, Catherine rolled her eyes and smiled, reassuring him that it was alright. She felt at ease with him, for some reason, despite not knowing him at all. All she knew about him was that he used to be a doctor, and that he apparently had baggage, just like she, and that he liked to run in the early morning. He was a complete mystery to her, which was one of the reasons she asked him to get coffee with her. Plus, there was still this pull, something familiar etching at the back of her mind.</p><p>The fact that he was very easy on the eyes was just a tiny little plus.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this story is more of a mix between let's-bang-immediately (there will be no smut, dw, just a reference tops) and slow-burn. ;))))))))))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Vincent started, “do you always make it a habit to invite strangers out for coffee?”</p>
<p>Catherine laughed. After they ordered their respective coffees and paid for them (Vincent thanked silently for the ability to pay via phone, it truly was a godsend), they sat down and nearly allowed the awkward silence to envelop them.</p>
<p>Vincent, however, seemed to happily break it.</p>
<p>“No, not really,” she responded. “Only those I literally run into.”</p>
<p>It was Vincent’s turn to laugh now, if only silently. He barely knew her, and yet for some reason, he felt at ease with her. He’d only ever felt that way with J.T., and perhaps, a long time ago, Alex. It felt refreshing, yet also scary at the same time.</p>
<p>“Yeah, third time’s the charm, isn’t it? You make it a habit of running early in the morning?”</p>
<p>Catherine hummed in affirmation. “Yeah, I do. It’s just.. you know, an hour of peace? The city never sleeps, but it’s also quieter this early. Look around, there’s like no one here!”</p>
<p>Vincent didn’t have to look around, he knew she was right. He also knew all the entry-and-exit points.</p>
<p>Catherine continued, “I live with my sister, she’s my sort-of-roommate, and I love her so much, but it can get tiring sometimes. I like to be alone with my thoughts. Also, my work is kinda demanding, so it’s always nice to relax. What about you?”</p>
<p>“Sort-of-roommate?”</p>
<p>Chuckling, she explained, “Yes. She pays for rent whenever she feels like it.”</p>
<p>Catherine also noticed that he avoided answering her questions… or, well, telling her anything about himself. She was, however, determined to at least get some answers out of him, if only to satiate her curiosity. “Why do you go running at an ungodly hour?”</p>
<p>Vincent ran a hand through his hair, debating with himself. Finally, he decided on an answer, “Earlier, you mentioned that I don’t seem like the kind of person to run away from my problems. Do you remember?”</p>
<p>“Vincent, it was half an hour ago. Of course I remember,” she laughed.</p>
<p>Vincent blushed a tiny bit and shook his head, “Right. Uh, sorry.”</p>
<p><em>He’s cute, </em>she thought for a second before allowing herself to actually listen to him.</p>
<p>“I used to be a soldier, got honorably discharged about half a year ago. Running helps me run away from my demons? That sounded poetic. It’s a shit reason and makes me look like a coward, but I’d prefer running in my pajamas at 5 in the morning compared to tossing and turning in my bed, you know?”</p>
<p>Catherine’s expression softened a tiny bit, seeing the frustration in his eyes and hearing the vulnerability in his voice. She was a stranger, and she knew in her own experience that opening up to one was often much easier than to someone close. Being a detective demanded she was good at reading people, and she just knew there was much more to the story than he was telling her, not just a regular case of PTSD. Still, she barely knew him, he barely knew her. She liked him enough to want to spend more time with him, but she knew when to not actually push.</p>
<p>Vincent, on the other hand, was rather relieved to see she wasn’t looking at him with pity. It had taken J.T. weeks to be able to do that, to see the Vincent he grew up with. However, he had already told her more than he had wanted to.</p>
<p>Catherine immediately noticed the tension in his shoulders, her skilled eyes reading his body language near-expertly, even though he tried to mask his slight discomfort. “So, what made you join the army?”</p>
<p>Vincent smiled wistfully. “My brothers died in the towers, back when I was fifteen.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “You don’t have to be. It was years ago, and I’m pretty sure everyone knew someone who died that day.”</p>
<p>Catherine nodded and allowed him to continue.</p>
<p>“I was a firefighter for a few months after I graduated high school. I wanted to honor their legacy, you know? Save lives like they did. My parents thought it was too dangerous for me, and they didn’t want to lose another son,” he said. “The only next logical thing was for me to become a doctor. That way, I could save lives in a different way.”</p>
<p>Vincent rarely talked about his brothers, and even most rarely did he talk about his time before the army. Talking to her about this right here, right now, felt almost freeing in a way.</p>
<p>Catherine’s entire attention was on him, she seemed enthralled. She was.</p>
<p>“So, I went to med school. Graduated, stuff like that. I finished my residency when I decided to enlist.”</p>
<p>“We still didn’t get to the part where you actually decided to enlist,” Catherine pointed out, and immediately realized her mistake. Or she thought she had, for Vincent did not only smile at her, but his eyes actually twinkled. She thought she’d overstepped, mentioned something he wasn’t ready to talk about, but it seemed that he had just been waiting for her to ask him what she wanted to know. He kept her on her toes, and she liked it.</p>
<p>His expression turned serious, then, and she knew she wouldn’t like the story. Just as Vincent was about to say something, a deep, feminine voice interrupted.</p>
<p>“Hey, Cat! Whatcha doin’ here?”</p>
<p>Catherine’s head whipped around to see her best friend holding a cup of coffee and a shit-eating grin on her face. Rolling her eyes, Cat smiled sweetly and replied, “Hey, Tess! Just getting my morning coffee. What about you?”</p>
<p>Tess’ eyes twinkled as she looked between Vincent and Cat. Vincent then checked his phone and abruptly stood up, interrupting anything Tess was about to say.</p>
<p>“I should probably go. I, uh, have to run some errands. Thanks for the coffee, Catherine.”</p>
<p>Catherine tried not to show her disappointment, but it must’ve shown in her expression. Vincent smiled apologetically and said, “I wouldn’t mind a repeat?”</p>
<p>Catherine’s smile widened and she nodded, “Definitely. See you around?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, see you around.”</p>
<p>Once Vincent left, Tess immediately sat down and started interrogating her.</p>
<p>“So, who was that beefcake?”</p>
<p>Catherine rolled her eyes. “His name’s Vincent. We ran into each other yesterday. Literally.”</p>
<p>“Okay, spill.”</p>
<p>And so, Catherine spilled the few things she actually knew she could tell her, all the while enjoying the sweet, sweet taste of her caffeine juice.</p>
<p>“Anyway, why are you here so early, though?” Catherine asked.</p>
<p>Tess gave her an unimpressed look. “It’s almost 7:30, Cat.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, oh.”</p>
<p>“We should probably get to work or Joe will have our asses.”</p>
<p>“Nah, only yours.”</p>
<p>Before she left, Catherine noticed a small piece of paper on the table. Picking it up, she blushed a tiny bit at seeing the phone number under Vincent’s name. For no reason. Obviously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “I’m still thinking about it.”</p>
<p>J.T. snorted. “About what? Going back to Metro General or asking the girl out?”</p>
<p>Vincent’s head whipping was almost comical, if J.T. said so himself. “What girl? What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>They were eating dinner on the couch and watching football, something Vincent didn’t really care about, but was always happy to watch, if only for the background noise.</p>
<p>“Dude, I haven’t seen you smile like this in, like, months. And considering that you came home way too late for an early morning jog… well? Gotta be a girl. Anything you wanna tell me?”</p>
<p>“Not particularly, no. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“You’ve just contradicted your statement.”</p>
<p>“What I’ve been thinking about,” Vincent interrupted, “is that I would go back to Metro General. We could at least afford a better apartment.”</p>
<p>J.T. nodded enthusiastically. “Something bigger. With more light.”</p>
<p>“And a basement.”</p>
<p>“Why a basement?”</p>
<p>Vincent shrugged. “To hide the bodies.”</p>
<p>“Dumbass,” J.T. threw a napkin at him.</p>
<p>Vincent chortled and nearly choked on his beer. He was just about to poke him on the cheek when his phone vibrated. He felt his stomach tighten in anxiety, but not the bad kind.</p>
<p>
  <em>Are those butterflies? What am I, like six?</em>
</p>
<p>Yes, they were, and no, he was not.</p>
<p>Reaching for his phone, he checked the message. It was from an unknown number, obviously, but the text message made his lips quirk up a fraction.</p>
<p>
  <em>Unknown: Hey stranger! You up for a morning run tmrw?</em>
</p>
<p>Blatantly ignoring J.T.’s curious expression, Vincent typed out a reply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At home, Catherine had just finished taking a shower after yet another grueling day. The case itself was a close-and-shut, but the paperwork that accompanied it was something she could honestly do without. To think that she had actually wanted to be a lawyer back in college, before her mother—before. Heather was out with her new boyfriend, some Luke or Josh or Kyle or something like that. She could never remember – mostly because Heather lived life to the fullest and didn’t mind experimenting.</p>
<p>Catherine, on the other hand, was a badass detective who preferred to stay home and have some rest between her work, working out, and… yeah, okay, that was it. She had no life. She met new people every day, yes, but most of those were work related, and while many had expressed interest to get to know her in the past, especially those of the opposite gender, she had not been so inclined. Okay, there was Evan, but that didn’t count. A fling was a fling, and they were friends now. Mostly.</p>
<p>She checked her phone for the time and noticed a text notification, making her heart skip a beat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Vincent: definitely up to it, stranger. coffee later?</em>
</p>
<p>Catherine grinned at the phone. While they hadn’t known each other for long – okay, fine, two days, and they talked for three hours total – she was good at reading people. Her own skill and instincts screamed at her to trust him, that he was good and safe.</p>
<p>While she didn’t need safe, she needed good. Her past relationships had not been the most favorable, and who knew what the future held?</p>
<p>Grinning, she began typing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, you’ve been texting with her for hours. The phone bill’s gonna hit the roof,” grumbled J.T., even though he couldn’t really hide the small smile on his face.</p>
<p>Vincent barely looked up from his phone – only for long enough to shoot his best friend a glare, which didn’t really do anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Early morning found Vincent waiting for Catherine at the spot where they’d first met. She was late. After texting for literal hours last night, Vincent really hoped that she either overslept or something came up.</p>
<p>If something had come up, though, she would’ve texted him, right? She would’ve let him know.</p>
<p>
  <em>Come on, Keller. You’re acting like a school boy with a crush. She’s cute and pretty and all that, but come on. Pull. Yourself. Together.</em>
</p>
<p>He kept repeating those three words to himself for the next fifteen minutes. He didn’t know whether he and Catherine would become something more eventually, but he knew that he appreciated having a friend besides J.T. He wasn’t even talking to his family, for God’s sake. He was a shell of a bro—damaged man.</p>
<p>Maybe it was good she hadn’t showed up yet. Who would even want a friend like him? A barely stable veteran with PTSD and on welfare? He had no aim in life, not right now. He was, at the moment, rather worthless. She didn’t need a friend like him – she didn’t need <em>someone more</em> like him. There was chemistry, there was tension, there was instinctual trust.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was not enough.</p>
<p>He was sure she had her own baggage, could see it through the small cracks, but at the same time, she seemed rather open about herself and about wanting to get to know him. He wasn’t sure he actually would be able to open up.</p>
<p>He found himself actually wanting to, and that scared him.</p>
<p>Vincent was just about to go back home when something small whizzed past him. It took him a second to realized it was Catherine, out of breath and looking extremely apologetic.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” she managed to rasp out between taking huge gulps of air, “I overslept and when I realized I barely had the time to brush my teeth and—”</p>
<p>“Catherine, it’s okay,” Vincent said, instinctively coming closer and putting his hands on her shoulders. She tensed for a second and then relaxed immediately. It took her another few seconds to get her breath under control.</p>
<p>“So, you’ve apparently already had your morning run,” he joked. Catherine huffed and crossed her arms, but smiled nonetheless.</p>
<p>“Yeah, guess so.”</p>
<p>“We could take a walk instead?”</p>
<p>Catherine grinned. “Lead the way.”</p>
<p>And so, he led.</p>
<p>Vincent decided not to pay any attention on the fact that all of his worries evaporated the moment she almost ran into him. He also tried very hard not to pay attention to the way her smile lit up her eyes, or that even slightly sweaty and in sports gear, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.</p>
<p>That was something to deal with at a later date.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ayyy longest chapter yet, hell ye!</p><p>tw: mentions of stabbing, mentions of drug overdose, mentions of murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Catherine and Vincent continued spending their time together in many different ways the next few weeks. Many different ways, such as early morning jogs, early morning walks, early morning coffee, and, once Vincent finally grew large enough balls, evening coffees as well. They didn’t go into the dating territory yet, one not wanting to rush the other. It was clear to both of them, however, that they were falling for each other.</p><p>One of the main reasons Vincent didn’t actually go through with it yet was, for one, that they were still largely only getting to know each other, but mostly because he wasn’t sure he was actually worth the effort from her part. Catherine was wonderful, and beautiful, and funny, and so, so understanding – her empathy coming from a place that only select few knew. Vincent didn’t open up to her yet, and neither did she, not completely. Both of them had sensed something dark in their past, yet neither of them wanted to pressure the other. Perhaps in fear, perhaps in understanding.</p><p>It was currently 2 AM and Vincent was walking downtown, not being able to sleep at all tonight. This time, it was not only nightmares, but also thoughts of Catherine that were keeping him awake. They’d been doing rather wonderfully lately, if he said so himself, and she had made him laugh in a matter of weeks more than he’d laughed in the past three years. He felt lighter, even now. Vincent had even told her about him thinking of going back to being a doctor, even if only part-time, thanks to the offer his old hospital had given him upon his return from Afghanistan. Catherine was very understanding, and with a soft smile that made something warm uncurl in his chest, she encouraged him to do it, but ultimately told him that it was his own decision.</p><p>And while he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure, Vincent thought—he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a small whimper. New York was a city that never slept, but at this time, the street he was on was mostly quiet with no one around. Checking around to see if there was anyone, Vincent was about to shrug it off when he heard the same whimper again. On high alert, he slowly entered an alleyway to his right, his breathing slow and measured, senses on high alert.</p><p>“Hello? Anyone there?” Vincent raised his voice. He waited for a few seconds. This time, it wasn’t a whimper, but rather a groan. Looking towards the source, Vincent immediately noticed a Dumpster near the end of the alley. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards it and opened it, his eyes going wide at the sight.</p><p>A boy, no older than eighteen, was laying there, his entire body a bloody mess full of bruises and small cuts. Vincent immediately went into doctor mode, assessing the young man for any sign of internal injuries. Knowing there was nothing he could actually do from his current position, Vincent made the radical decision of jumping into the Dumpster himself, carefully avoiding the boy’s battered body.</p><p>He pulled out his phone and called 911.</p><p>
  <em>“911, what is your emergency?”</em>
</p><p>“I found a bloodied teenager in a dumpster, possible internal bleeding, appearing to be losing consciousness. Hey, hey! Stay with me, buddy, stay awake! Come on.”</p><p>Vincent then ratted off his exact location and instinctively called Catherine. It was then that Vincent noticed a small metal object embedded in the kid’s abdomen. If it weren’t for his first aid knowledge (and medical degree), his first instinct would be to pull it out. If he did that, the kid would bleed out within minutes.</p><p><em>“Vincent? What’s going on?” </em>asked Catherine, her voice rough from sleep. Vincent was pulled out of his reverie and focused on the sound of Catherine’s sleepy voice. A part of Vincent’s mind registered it as endearing, but most of his attention was still focused on the teenager in front of him.</p><p>He quickly told her what was going on. He could also hear Catherine getting up from the bed.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll be there in 20 minutes, don’t go anywhere. You called 911 yet?”</em>
</p><p>“Yeah, I did.” Vague sirens could be heard in the distance. “I can hear them already. I don’t even know why I called you, you’re a homicide detective. The kid’s still alive.”</p><p><em>“Attempted murder is still a case that falls under me,” </em>she said, and Vincent faintly heard her opening the door of her car.</p><p>“Gotcha. See you when you get here, I’ve gotta go.”</p><p>He hung up and checked the boy’s pulse. It was weak but steady, as was his breathing. Despite Vincent’s attempts at keeping him awake, the teen had lost consciousness moments prior. The paramedics arrived a few minutes later and helped Vincent get the kid out of the Dumpster. They carried him to the ambulance and then instructed Vincent to wait for an officer to ask for his statement.</p><p>“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Vincent said, pointedly looking behind them. One of the remaining paramedics turned around to see Catherine brandishing her badge and walking towards Vincent with a purpose. “Hey, Catherine.”</p><p>Catherine rolled her eyes but her lips quirked up, “Hey, Vincent.”</p><p>She then turned to the paramedic and showed him her badge, “Detective Chandler. This case now belongs to the 125th precinct, as this area is under our jurisdiction. He alright?”</p><p>The paramedic looked between the two of them and nodded. “He’s fine, found the kid just in time, hopefully.”</p><p>Noticing the familiarity between the two, he quickly gathered his things and left.</p><p>“You okay?” asked Catherine softly, putting her hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t know, honestly,” he admitted. “Not the first time I’ve seen something like this… But it always gets to you, you know?”</p><p>An emotion passed through Catherine’s eyes, but before Vincent could figure out what it was, it was gone. Instead, she smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah, I know. You probably saved his life, you know? If that’s not a sign for you to get back, I don’t know what is.”</p><p>Vincent smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her expression mirrored his own, but soon became neutral once two more squad cars arrived and the uniforms started to secure the crime scene.</p><p>“I think we can safely say that this wasn’t just an accident.”</p><p>Vincent nodded in agreement. “I should give you my statement, shouldn’t I?”</p><p>Catherine nodded and took a small notepad out of her jacket. She first asked him to describe the events, and afterwards gave him a few questions for clarification. All in all, it took less than ten minutes, and they had basically nothing.</p><p>“Until we figure out who he is, we can’t really do much else. You should go get some sleep, Vincent. You look really tired,” Catherine said, a hint of concern peeking through.</p><p>Vincent smiled at her. “Right back at you. Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night.. I just, I don’t know. I called 911 and then I called you, like a reflex. For all I knew, this could not have been your jurisdiction or something.”</p><p>“Yeah, but even then, I could’ve run point until someone from the right precinct would show up. You did good, Vincent.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Now, I just gotta go wake up my Captain at three in the morning and explain to him that I got myself a case.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Chandler, what the <em>hell</em> do you mean you got yourself a case? It’s THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING!”</p><p>“Uh…”</p><p>“Just solve it. Tell me about it tomorrow. Later tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yes, Captain.”</p><p>That went well.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Vincent tried to rest after he had gotten home, but he just couldn’t. He felt restless, nearly high on energy – it reminded him of the ‘good old days’ back during his residency when he came home tired to the bone but extremely satisfied. He didn’t feel satisfied now, he just hoped that the kid would live to see another day.</p><p>He went for his traditional run, but considering the case he had accidentally put Catherine on, he was not the least bit surprised to not see her or run into her. Having woken her up in the middle of the night, Vincent guessed she was either sleeping or working on the case itself. Knowing her, it was probably the latter, even though he hoped for the former.</p><p>It was a Saturday, and by 9 AM, even J.T. was fed up with him. He grabbed Vincent’s phone from the table and shoved it at him, ordering him to call Catherine to catch him up to speed. If he hinted at Vincent asking her out properly, that was something between him and Vincent only.</p><p>Catherine picked up on the third ring.<em> “Hi. You okay? I was just about to call you.”</em></p><p>Vincent half-smiled at her question. “Hey, Cat. Yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask about the kid.”</p><p>
  <em>“That’s what I was actually about to call you about. He’s not out of the woods, but he’s stable. The doctors said that if you haven’t found him when you did, he would’ve died. You saved his life, Vincent.”</em>
</p><p>Something very akin to relief made Vincent’s chest feel lighter, and while he knew most of it was due to the kid still kicking, part of it was also due to Catherine’s pride. The revelation didn’t shock him as much as it should have.</p><p>“That’s…,” he exhaled deeply, “that’s awesome news. You got any leads yet?”</p><p>She sounded apologetic when she said, <em>“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything since it’s an ongoing investigation.”</em></p><p>“I understand, don’t worry,” Vincent said, speaking nothing but the truth. Her job had boundaries – his (former one) had doctor-patient confidentiality, hers had a… can’t-talk-about-a-case-that-she-was-currently-investigating confidentiality. He trusted Catherine’s abilities to find the wannabe killer.</p><p>They talked for a few more minutes, mostly her asking if he was alright. After reassuring her that he was fine, that he had seen worse things in the army (which did not help his case), Vincent finally found himself having the balls to actually go through with the question he had been wanting to ask her for days.</p><p>“Anyway, uh.. I wanted to ask you something.”</p><p><em>“What is it?” </em>She sounded so confused, it was honestly adorable.</p><p>Vincent took a deep breath and shot his shot. “After the case… Would you like to go on a dinner with me? Like a date? A proper date?”</p><p>The other line was quiet for a few seconds and Vincent’s pulse began to rise, only for it to shoot sky high once she replied. There was no mistaking the beautiful, giant smile in her voice.</p><p>“I would love to.”</p><p>Vincent wouldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day even if J.T. clogged the toilet. Again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The case was mostly open-and-shut. The kid, Roger, regained consciousness the next day and gave his statement to Catherine and Tess, who, in turn, interviewed the primary suspect. Roger’s own best friend Jeremy confessed after about ten minutes in the interrogation room, breaking down and telling them how jealous he had been of his best friend in his latest success in life and how, in a fit of drug-induced rage, began beating and eventually, how he stabbed, his best friend. After realizing what he had done, rather than call the police, he had decided to throw Roger into the nearest Dumpster and run.</p><p>He decided to plead guilty, and taking the drugs which were in his system at the time into account, Jeremy was looking at three to five years in jail, </p><p>When Catherine went to see Roger and informed him of what would happen next, he only nodded and then asked if he could meet the man who saved his life. Catherine smiled and called Vincent, who was quick to agree. Her heart warmed when the two met, and Catherine felt a slight pang in her chest when she was reminded of what happened all those months ago. Seeing Vincent and Roger interact made her feel as if she had nearly paid for her deepest sin.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You saved his life, Vincent. You should be proud.”</p><p>“I did what anyone would do in my situation.”</p><p>“It’s honestly adorable that you think that.”</p><p>A blush.</p><p>“I’ll, uh, pick you up at 7?”</p><p>A smile.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After visiting Roger, Vincent took a deep breath and readied himself for the phone call he had been avoiding for months.</p><p>“Hey, Dr. Marcus? This is Keller. I’d like to go back.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Cat! Just choose an outfit! It’s not rocket science!”</p><p>Catherine nearly groaned at the exasperated-slash-bubbly voice of her dear sister. She’d called her earlier this evening, asking her to come over and help her choose an outfit for her date. Whenever she thought of Vincent and their dinner-to-be, an army of butterflies erupted in her stomach and wouldn’t stop until she managed to calm down. While unbecoming of a seasoned detective, she was also a woman – a woman who really, really liked a certain man. She had been waiting for him to ask her out for weeks, now, and in her own desire not to push him, had decided not to ask him herself.</p><p>Vincent had texted her earlier in the day, after the whole Roger mess had been dealt with, and told her to dress casually. And so, there she was, in the middle of her room, with four dresses thrown haphazardly on her bed. It was March, for God’s sake, why would she wear a dress? Especially on a casual date? She groaned and buried her face in her hands.</p><p>“Oh, Catherine, it’s gonna be okay,” Heather soothed, rubbing her back. “What’s your instinct telling you?”</p><p>“That he won’t care,” she mumbled. “I know he won’t. But I also wanna take his breath away, you know?”</p><p>“From what you’ve told me about him, you’re gonna knock his breath away by smiling at him.”</p><p>Catherine threw her a glare but couldn’t hide the small blush on her cheeks. Heather didn’t know Vincent, at least not yet, but she really wanted to get to know him. She’d never seen her sister act like this; it was adorable.</p><p>“He told you to dress casual, right? So just take a pair of those skinny jeans you love and… oh! How about the sweater I gave you for Christmas?”</p><p>“Heath, I love you, but I do not want to look like a grandma! That sweater is for Netflix and book-reading only! The jeans are a good idea, though,” Catherine mused. Heather threw her a faux-hurt look.</p><p>“It’s gonna be cold, though! Do you still have that cashmere sweater? You know, the tight one?”</p><p>Catherine grinned. “Yeah, I do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>7 PM was nearing by the minute and Vincent was standing in front of Catherine’s apartment building, a single red rose in his hand. He had texted her a few minutes ago, telling her that he was waiting and that she should take her time.</p><p>He felt his heart thundering in his chest, and hoped that he wasn’t sweating. The front door opened and when she came out, he swore that the thundering stopped immediately, along with his entire heartbeat.</p><p>She looked beautiful, downright mesmerizing, and the smile she gave him when she noticed him was worth more than any words could actually say. Catherine walked over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, making both of them blush a tiny bit. Neither of them apparently expected her to do that.</p><p>“Hi,” she breathed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She wore only the slightest bit of make-up, opting for a more natural look. The tight camel sweater complimented her complexion and brought out her eyes, and the combo of black skinny jeans and a leather jacket of the same color made for a sight he was definitely not prepared for. Especially not one where she was looking right back at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and dare he say it, attraction.</p><p>“Hi,” he replied, and gave her the rose, making her look at him in bewilderment before she burst out laughing. She squeezed his hand as she took the rose, eliminating all potential hurt from her laughter. He hadn’t felt any beforehand, mostly focused on the sound of her laugh. He liked it. A lot.</p><p>“Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm. Oh, so they would walk.</p><p>“We shall,” she grinned and took the arm offered, leaning against it the tiniest bit.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The walk was not very long, and Catherine found she couldn’t concentrate on where they were actually going. Her gaze kept switching back to Vincent and the picture he made. The navy blue sweater underneath his black knee-length overcoat made her go slightly weak at the knees. And the fact that she hadn’t seen proper Chelsea boots on a man she was interested in in years was just a bonus.</p><p>Vincent, on the other hand, kept glancing at her face and, most notably, her lips. It was doing strange things to her insides.</p><p>They talked about everything and nothing in particular on the way – him deciding to get reinstated as a doctor (she squealed), her favorite case, how she and Tess met, Vincent and J.T.’s friendship and Catherine expressing her desire to meet him sometime. The last part made Vincent feel warm all over, despite the fact the he had been feeling this way ever since she slipped her arm into his.</p><p>He thought about going for her hand, but decided against it. Not yet.</p><p>“So, you gonna tell me where we’re actually going?” she asked, the curiosity in her voice unmistakable. Extremely adorable, too.</p><p>“It’s a small family restaurant. Very niche, but the food is amazing and the atmosphere is both casual and a little romantic. You’ll like it. I hope.”</p><p>She snorted but smiled at the thoughtfulness. While her job required her to sometimes go to both open and fancy spaces, she much preferred the quiet atmosphere of a smaller establishment. She had no idea if he could read her so well or he was the same. Probably both.</p><p>After about five more minutes of walking, they arrived in front of a fairly ordinary looking restaurant. Catherine, born and raised in New York City, knew that those were usually the best ones.</p><p>She was proven right when their food arrived later.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The date had been amazing. They ate and talked and laughed and talked some more. There were those moments where both of them were content to just look in each other’s eyes. Catherine liked those moments best.</p><p>After some gentle prodding and asking the right questions without pushing him, Vincent opened up to her a bit more and told her some of the funnier stories from his time in the Army.</p><p>“--So there he was, butt naked for all the world to see, doing push ups for fifteen minutes straight. The only reason I didn’t join him was because I was dying from laughter on the inside,” Vincent told, hands gesticulating wildly. Catherine was mesmerized.</p><p>“He had to do push ups naked outside just because he forgot to put on underwear…?”</p><p>Vincent laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. We’d get those wake up calls during the night and had to snap to attention in, like, five seconds flat. Hayes just liked to sleep naked.”</p><p>Catherine snorted. “Why’d you have to be ready like that?”</p><p>“Special Forces.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>This was the first time Vincent actually told her more about his occupation in the Army, and it actually made sense that he used to be Special Forces.</p><p>“Do you keep in touch with your old unit?”</p><p>Vincent’s relaxed expression vanished in an instant only to be replaced by one of deep sadness. “One or two, yeah. Most of us didn’t make it back.”</p><p>“I-I’m so sorry, Vincent,” she stuttered, feeling terrible for making him relive those memories.</p><p>Vincent reached across the table, grabbed her hand and smiled at her. “It’s alright, Catherine. You did nothing wrong.”</p><p>Catherine smiled at him and asked, “Wanna get out of here?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They found themselves on the roof of Catherine’s apartment building, the pollution of the city making it nearly impossible to see the stars. And yet, the atmosphere couldn’t be more romantic if they tried. Neither of them wanted the night to end, and so Catherine invited him to go to the rooftop with her, citing that she spent a lot of time there by herself. Vincent couldn’t say no.</p><p>They avoided heavy topics after Catherine’s tiny fiasco, but she knew that in order for them to be able to be something more, they needed to open up to each other. And she knew that Vincent was not ready to take the first step in that. Catherine, however, was.</p><p>“Nearly six months ago, I was assigned on a case,” she started, capturing Vincent’s undivided attention. The seriousness in her voice prompted him to look into her eyes. “Wasn’t my first nor my last one, obviously.”</p><p>Vincent waited, not speaking. Eventually, Catherine continued, “A sixteen year old kid found dead in an alley with multiple puncture wounds in his elbows. We thought it was suicide, you know? That the kid just OD’d. Our coroner, Evan, noticed something strange and called me up.”</p><p>She took a deep breath. “The kid had deep tissue bruises all across his wrists and ankles. Evan estimated that the kid got them at the time of his death. The kid was murdered.”</p><p>Vincent tensed up next to her. He had seen many cases of accidental overdose during his time as a doctor, and each time was as painful as the one before. Death by overdose was painful and long, and for someone to do it intentionally to another person was incredibly cruel. Inhumane.</p><p>Catherine’s eyes were teary and bright, and Vincent wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and tell her that it was okay. He couldn’t. Not yet.</p><p>“We eventually found the killer, one of the boys from his hood. He was fifteen, and had more drugs in his system than Jeremy when he nearly killed Roger. He was delirious and he had—he… he had a gun.”</p><p>Dread filled Vincent’s stomach and he hoped to God this wasn’t going where he thought it was. He knew it was futile.</p><p>“I.. I shot him. I-in the chest. Twice.” She desperately tried to keep her voice strong, willing it not to break. It broke anyway, as did her walls. She let the tears flow freely and sobbed quietly, drawing into herself. Vincent didn’t let her, however, and finally letting his instincts guide him, he put his arms around her and brought her closer to himself. She buried her face in his chest and cried, cried for the kid who died and barely even knew it, even if he did something terrible. Cried for the kid who died an incredibly painful death. Cried for herself, for not allowing herself to actually <em>feel</em> the pain. Seeing Vincent with Roger today allowed her to finally begin the deepest part of healing, and yet she knew that this part was just as important.</p><p>Vincent only held her and stroked her hair, his heart cracking into more and more pieces with each painful sound she made. He whispered sweet nothings into her hair, reassuring her and telling her it wasn’t her fault; because it wasn’t. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t.</p><p>He didn’t tell her anything else because he knew it wouldn’t do anything. He could only hold her and support her and let his own tears flow, feeling her pain and wishing she didn’t have to go through that.</p><p>After what seemed like an eternity for her, but only a few minutes to Vincent, her sobs became more and more quiet until there was just a few hiccups here and there. Vincent’s sweater was wet with her tears, but he didn’t mind it one bit. She was much, much more important.</p><p>When she finally looked up at him, she didn’t see a hint of pity – only compassion and empathy and affection. Not love, not yet, but it was no doubt that it would be there soon.</p><p>“Not your perfect idea for a first date, huh?” Catherine joked, her voice hoarse.</p><p>That startled a laugh out of Vincent, who only reached his thumb to wipe the last of her tears from her cheeks. “No, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Thank you, Catherine. Thank you for telling me this.”</p><p>Her answer was to only bury her head in the crook of his neck.</p>
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